


Unfolding Slowly Towards the Light

by embroiderama



Series: Christmas Carol [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-19
Updated: 2010-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-06 11:31:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embroiderama/pseuds/embroiderama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary and John get ready for Dean's first Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unfolding Slowly Towards the Light

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [](http://leighleighla.livejournal.com/profile)[**leighleighla**](http://leighleighla.livejournal.com/) for the [](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_het_love/profile)[**spn_het_love**](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_het_love/) holiday fic exchange. The title is from "Christmas Carol" by Nerissa &amp; Katryna Nields. Thanks to [](http://eponin10.livejournal.com/profile)[**eponin10**](http://eponin10.livejournal.com/) and [](http://innie-darling.livejournal.com/profile)[**innie_darling**](http://innie-darling.livejournal.com/) for the beta.

Dean sat at Mary's side for long moments, watching mesmerized as her knitting needles moved together and apart, pulling the yarn into the shape of a Christmas stocking. He would run off from time to time, jumping down from the couch to play with his favorite toy truck on the floor. He liked to push it back and forth, all the while talking to himself in a language that Mary thought she could almost understand if only she listened very, very closely.

Her baby boy. The third member of her new family, just as she'd been the third for nineteen years. For the last six years she and John hadn't worried too much about Christmas. They went to John's mother's house for the day and exchanged presents, but Mary hadn't been able to stand thinking about the holiday too much. Her mother had loved Christmas. She had insisted Mary's father be home that week, not off on some hunt, and she had always decorated the house. A tree, lights, stockings hanging from the mantle--three red and white stockings she'd knitted herself, stitched with each of their names.

The small house she and John lived in didn't have a mantle, but it had book shelves, and now that they were three again, a real family, they needed stockings of their own. Mary only had a week until Christmas Eve, and there were nearly two stockings still to make. The ball of yarn rolled off Mary's lap and Dean toddled over to it, distracted from his toys. He picked it up and squeezed it in his little fist. "Ba!" he exclaimed, holding the yarn up high.

"That's right, it's a ball. Now give it to me, baby." Mary reached out and Dean pulled the ball of yarn closer to himself before dropping it on the floor and shining an impish grin up at Mary. Mary stifled a laugh and bent over to retrieve the yarn herself. "I want to finish this section before we go meet your daddy at work, okay?"

"Dada!" Trust Dean to pluck the most important word out of the sentence. He perked up, looking around to the door as though John might be coming through any second.

"In a little while, baby. How about a nap?"

Dean pouted, but he didn't fight when Mary stood and picked him up, carrying him up the stairs to his bedroom. Mary put him down in his crib and hummed, stroking his head as his eyelids fluttered closed. As she waited to make sure he was really asleep, she looked around the room. He was going to need a real bed soon, and the room was hardly bigger than a closet. They'd need a larger house, something better than their little townhouse. And a better neighborhood, too--somewhere without too-loud neighbors that sometimes kept Dean awake at night.

She and John had agreed to put a chunk of her parents' life insurance money toward buying into the auto shop--they could grow their future there, and the small house was fine when it was just the two of them. But Dean deserved more; he deserved a place they could make into a real home, and if their little family ever grew to four they'd need even more room. Finding the perfect house would be Mary's new year's resolution--a new decade, a new home. It just felt like the right time.

When she was sure Dean was deeply asleep, Mary ran her finger lightly over the pale freckles on his little nose. So very perfect, and he was hers. With a sigh, she went back downstairs to knit until Dean woke up from his nap.

~~~

The front office of the auto shop wasn't a pretty place--scuffed up cabinets and rows of metal shelves hung on the walls. Mary had tried to infuse a little holiday spirit into the room, and if nobody else appreciated it at least Dean did. He laughed and reached out for the cardboard Santa taped to the front window and then squirmed in Mary's arms as soon as the door had closed behind them. "Down," he said, that word one of his clearest. "Down!" When Mary let him go, he took off toddling as fast as he could in the direction of the counter.

Mary had put up strands of green and gold tinsel and Dean stared at them, watching as the fluorescent lights in the ceiling shimmered off the metallic threads. He wrapped his chubby fingers around a handful of tinsel and succeeded in pulling a few strands away from the garland. Mary caught him with the bundle an inch away from his mouth, and he frowned when she peeled all the bits of tinsel off his fingers.

"DADA!" he called out, clearly ready to see John now that his fun was disrupted.

"Yeah baby, I'm so mean." Mary picked him back up and walked through the door into the garage. John was back there, already out from under the car he'd been working on and washing his hands.

"Hey! You're early!" John smiled and walked toward them and when he got close enough he wrapped his arms around the both of them and kissed Mary. John's neck, above the zippered collar of his overalls, smelled like honest sweat, and his back under her free hand felt as solid as a house.

She hadn't realized when they got engaged that John was still so much of a growing boy, despite being a year older than her. He'd gotten bigger every year, his shoulders broader, his face wider, his arms stronger, and Mary loved to feel that bulk around her.

Dean didn't quite agree. He shrieked out a brief complaint and twisted around between them until John reluctantly pulled his lips away from hers and stepped back.

"How's my boy?" John reached out to take Dean, and Dean eagerly scrambled into his arms. "Ready to come to work yet? Make this place a whole family affair?"

"Not quite yet. Maybe he can work after school once he starts kindergarten." Mary laughed, walking over to the little office in the back. "Do you mind holding onto him while I work back here? I would've left him, but Mrs. Rose went out of town early to spend Christmas with her son and grandkids."

"Sure, I can watch him." John pulled Dean closer, and Dean giggled. "It's slow around here today. I can give him a lesson on how to check the fluids in the Impala." He held Dean up and talked directly to him. "That's more fun than staying with the old neighbor lady, right?"

"John! Our boy is going to be as obsessed with cars as you are." Mary smiled to soften the remark. It was hard to hold a grudge against the Chevy when Dean had most likely been conceived in the back seat.

"Good. Then he can take over the business and let us retire in Arizona." John bounced Dean up and down in his arms, to Dean's delight. "He'll turn twenty-one in the year 2000, you know? Think we can move to a moon colony by then?"

"John, you are the biggest little boy I have ever met." Mary laughed and then kissed John on the cheek before doing the same to Dean. "Okay, let me go work so we don't go to jail for income tax evasion before the spaceship takes off."

In the little office, Mary checked the numbers for the deposits from the last two days and wrote checks to their vendors. The accounts looked good--word was spreading that John and Mike were the best mechanics on this side of town. She closed her eyes and imagined the new house they needed now that Dean was growing so quickly, how it would have a kitchen with big windows that let in sunlight and a fireplace where they could hang their stockings next Christmas.

Mary knew better than most that safety could be an illusion, but she also knew how important illusions could be. Pretend to be normal, pretend that being normal would keep you safe--she would gladly pretend for the rest of her life if it would protect Dean. If it meant that Dean didn't ever have to see his father come home injured from a hunt, bleeding from a gash that had to be stitched up at home because the doctors wouldn't understand--if it meant that he wouldn't grow up with nightmares for bedtime stories--she would learn to be the best pretender in the world.

When she opened her eyes, she saw John holding Dean high in the air, bouncing their baby boy in his big hands. Being a normal family was the best way to protect them both.

~~~

Christmas Eve, Mary woke up early and went downstairs to set out butter and eggs so they could get to room temperature by the time she started baking. She started the coffee and padded out into the living room to wait while it gurgled its way through the brewing process. All three of her Christmas stockings were hanging on nails she'd tapped into the front of one of the bookcase shelves. None of them were perfect; Mary could see dropped stitches and uneven places, and the names looked far less elegant than the ones her mother had stitched. But John had smiled when he saw them, and Dean had grabbed the bottom of his and chewed on the toe, so she took that as a sign they'd been accepted into the family.

Later, after John left to put in half a day at the garage, Mary baked up enough cookies to cover the kitchen table three times over while Dean played in his playpen. Mary had put it in the corner--the only place in the kitchen where Dean would be both clear of the cooking area and far enough from the table that he couldn't grab any unauthorized snacks. He wasn't at all pleased with the situation; he hated being penned in, and he banged one of his wooden blocks on the floor every few minutes just to remind Mary of that fact.

Either that or he was trying to back up John Bonham on the drums. Once the first batch was in the oven, Mary had woken up enough to decide it was way too quiet in the house. She had to crank up the record player a little to hear it from the living room, but the neighbors deserved a little of their own medicine. Dean was kicking up such a fuss wanting to get out of his playpen that Mary finally picked him up and danced around the kitchen. He giggled when she shook her hips and sang to him _Oh baby baby_ during "Candy Store Rock."

Time got away from her, putting pans of cookies in the oven and bouncing around the house with Dean to the Zeppelin catalog. When John walked in the front door, she was in the middle of shaking her hair around her head to "Whole Lotta Love" and swiveling around with Dean perched on her hip. John broke out in a wide grin and tried to dance with them, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. Mary wrapped her free hand around his hip and moved enough for the both of them. Getting him to listen to some better music had been enough of a miracle; teaching John Winchester to dance was far beyond hope.

~~~

She woke up on Christmas morning to the rasp of John's stubble against her chin, his warm breath on her skin and the light pressure of his lips on her neck and collar bone. She stretched her head back to give him more room and he hummed against her throat, sending low vibrations across her chest.

"Good morning," he said, moving up to kiss her lips.

"Merry Christmas," she replied, just as soon as she had breath to answer. She ran her hand down his back, enjoying the evidence of his strength, the ripple of his muscles under sleep-warm skin.

Before they could get any farther, a loud banging sounded from Dean's room next door. Even without going to check, Mary knew he was awake and hungry, standing up holding onto the top of his crib and shaking the frame hard enough to make it bump into the corner of the dresser. Mary sighed and pushed on John's shoulder so he would roll over.

"Time to go feed the bottomless pit." She stood up and pulled her ratty pink robe around her.

John smiled with his sleepy morning eyes that never failed to make her want to crawl right back into bed. "I'll meet you downstairs."

In Dean's room, Mary pulled him out of the crib and unsnapped his pajamas to change him. "Merry Christmas, Dean. You know what Christmas is?" He babbled back enthusiastically and Mary nodded as she put the new diaper on him. "That's exactly right."

At the bottom of the stairs, Mary stopped and stared, holding Dean tight against her side. The tree--she and John had agreed that a big live tree was a waste of money this year, when Dean wouldn't even remember it or notice it much. They had a little plastic tree Mary had bought for her old apartment, and that was supposed to be good enough. But in the living room across from the stairs there was a six-foot tree decked out with white lights and red and gold balls and a white-robed angel perched at the top. Now that she was paying attention, she could smell the pine.

She jumped when she felt a touch at her waist and then relaxed back against John's chest. "How did you do this? When?"

"I was trained for stealth missions." His breath tickled the skin behind her ear, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "Is it--do you like it?"

"It's gorgeous." The prickle of tears surprised Mary and she wiped at her eyes. "I love it." Dean kicked at her leg and whined out a hungry complaint.

"Here, let me take him," John said, coming around to stand in front of Mary and drawing Dean out of her arms. "I'm never here for breakfast."

John disappeared into the kitchen with Dean and Mary went to sit on the sofa where she could keep looking at the tree. She hadn't had a real tree for Christmas since the year before everything fell apart, the last year with her parents. Her dad had brought home a real tree every year, even if it was a little late a few times. The tree had been decorated with all the little ornaments they'd given and received as presents over the years and some that Mary had made in school. No matter how many times she asked her mother to put away those old paper and glue creations, she never would.

Mary closed her eyes, and she could still see the phantom glow of the tree lights behind her eyelids. She imagined the ornaments Dean would make and how she would place them just so on the front of the tree. She thought that maybe, if she held on tight enough to the memory of this moment, nothing bad could ever touch her family.

In the kitchen, John blew a loud, wet raspberry, and Dean squealed with joy. Mary opened her eyes and looked at the angel on top of the tree. _Please_, she prayed, though she wasn't sure if there was anybody out there who would listen to her now. _Please._

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic Collection] A Very Supernatural Christmas: A Collection of Holiday Podfics](https://archiveofourown.org/works/375114) by [applegeuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/applegeuse/pseuds/applegeuse)




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